Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor-Chapter 142 : Marionette [2]

"Ah, yes. Two seats for the Millan Family. Right this way, sir," the receptionist said politely.

Vanitas gave a small nod, adjusting his top hat and fixing the monocle perched over his eye.

Glancing at Astrid beside him, he spoke with a refined tone, "Shall we, my sister?"

"...."

Astrid remained silent for a moment, eyeing the completely different look he had adopted—white hair and ruby-red eyes. She, too, wore a matching disguise.

At the moment, they were posing as siblings of the Millan Family from the Celestine Hegemony—Noah Millan and Raeliana Millan.

"Yes, brother," she replied.

With a graceful nod, Astrid took Vanitas's arm as they followed the usher through the marbled corridor of the opera house.

Once they reached their assigned seats—nestled discreetly among the other well-dressed guests—Vanitas cast a sideways glance at her.

"Do you miss home?" he asked quietly.

"A-Ah?" Astrid blinked, slightly caught off guard by the question.

Her gaze lowered for a moment.

"It's not that…" she murmured, then added softly, "But I understand, Professor. If this can save your life, then it's okay for me."

"...."

Vanitas remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed ahead at the grand stage below as the lights dimmed slowly, signaling the start of the performance.

He spoke again, this time more softly.

"I appreciate this," he said. "If it weren't for you, Charlotte would be having a much harder time."

He had heard of what Astrid had done for her. After the Desmond Wyndale case, Charlotte had faced some sort of subtle oppression from the higher nobility from the third years.

But with Astrid by her side, no one dared to confront her openly.

"Y-Yes?" Astrid looked up at him, startled by the sudden shift in tone. "Do you… miss Charlotte?"

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "If I could've explained everything to her, I would have. But I believe it's better this way."

To deceive one's enemies, one must first deceive their allies.

Vanitas knew the Astrea blood ran strong in Charlotte. But what she lacked was not talent, but conviction—the confidence to act without relying on him.

What she needed now was resolve.

And if, by any chance, he were to disappear from this world, then he hoped she would stand strong without him.

"Hoo…."

He exhaled slowly, eyes drifting back to the stage.

After a moment, he spoke again.

"What about you?" he asked. "Do you miss your father? Your brother? Your sister?"

"I…" Astrid hesitated, the question catching her off guard. She lowered her gaze and curled her slightly over the hem of her dress. "I wouldn't say I miss them…"

She paused, searching for the right words.

"It's not that I don't care. But the palace never really felt like home. At least… not in the conventional sense. I was never particularly close to my brother, and my sister was rarely around when I was growing up."

She exhaled quietly before continuing.

"And my father… well, he's the Emperor. His duty has always been to the Empire, not to his children. I suppose it's unfair of me to expect more… but still, I guess I could say I envy normal families."

A faint smile tugged at her lips as her gaze softened.

"Talking about all this… makes me miss my mother."

Vanitas glanced at her, and asked, "What was she like?"

Astrid tilted her head slightly, her eyes drifting to the stage.

"She was warm," she said.. "Not perfect… but warm. I remember leaving the palace with her to go to her workplace when I was younger."

"Workplace?" Vanitas raised his brows. "The Queen was working?"

He knew.

Of course he knew.

Even though he wasn't the original Vanitas, just hearing the name Julia Barielle made something warm and nostalgic rise within him. But Astrid didn't need to know that.

"Yes," Astrid replied with a chuckle. "This isn't the 17th century. Even the Imperial Family has responsibilities outside of ceremonies and galas. Before she became the Imperial Queen, my mother was a researcher."

"Is that so?"

Astrid nodded. "She used to work at one of the Imperial-affiliated research divisions in her early years. I never really understood the things she talked about, but she always seemed happiest in a lab coat rather than a royal gown."

Vanitas gave a subtle, thoughtful nod.

His own mother, Clarice Astrea, had also once worked in that very same research division. And with that knowledge, a lingering suspicion resurfaced in his mind.

Perhaps… the Mana Core Degeneration Syndrome had originated there.

Still, he needed to investigate further. The truth remained a mystery to him, and he knew the entire research was kept under heavy confinement without any public records whatsoever.

Worse yet, there was no one he could ask directly.

But if there was even the slightest chance of uncovering a clue, any lead that could guide him toward a cure without relying on the fabled Archives of Haven, then it would be worth every effort.

"You have a good heart, Astrid," Vanitas said, gently ruffling her hair. "Don't forget that."

"A-Ah?" She blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected gesture. "Please, stop it."

She pouted slightly, brushing his hand away.

"How am I ever supposed to make progress if you keep treating me like a child?" she quietly mumbled, puffing her cheeks. "Seriously, I'm turning nineteen next month…."

"Hm?"

"N-Nothing…."

As the opera unfolded on the grand stage before them, Vanitas leaned back in his seat. The performance was a familiar tale. A tragic romance following the classic Romeo and Juliet trope.

Astrid glanced toward Vanitas, noticing how his expression displayed utter indifference.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

"Do you dislike tragedies?" she asked.

"No," he replied without turning his head. "I just find them… predictable."

Astrid tilted her head. "Because love always ends in sorrow?"

"No," Vanitas said, his voice low. "Because sorrow always makes love feel real."

She paused, her lips parting slightly but no words coming out.

"I think that's… a little sad."

"It is," he said. "But that's why it's honest."

And for a moment, neither of them spoke again. In truth, Chae Eun-woo had only ever loved once.

Perhaps the only time he had allowed himself to abandon his past… to live, even for a fleeting moment, as an ordinary man.

But that love… had been the very reason his lover was taken from him.

And that love… had become his breaking point.

The final crack in a fragile heart already worn thin by the burdens of too many choices.

His eyes glinted as memories briefly clouded his vision, a distant voice echoing from the past.

——Maybe in our next lives, you'll be the teacher instead, Eun-woo.

"I'd make a terrible teacher, Min-jeong," he whispered under his breath, barely audible above the orchestra's tune.

And still, those memories lingered… memories he didn't want to remember.

Because remembering meant feeling.

….And feeling meant hurting all over again.

* * *

"Why…?"

Charlotte stood before Vincenzo Gambino, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

"Why won't you help me?" she asked, her voice breaking. "My brother said you were on our side… that we could trust you."

Vincenzo let out a slow sigh, his gaze heavy as he turned to face her fully.

"I understand," he said. "Your brother's death pains me as well. He was a good man. But I simply don't see the merit in antagonizing the Esmeralda Duke Family."

He turned slightly, glancing at Anastasia, who stood silently at his side.

"I have a daughter too," he continued. "And I won't recklessly gamble with the future of my family."

"He's done you so many favors…." Charlotte's voice cracked, frustration rising in her throat.

"I know," Vincenzo said. "And I never denied that. But this is a matter of survival. I won't start a war I'm not certain I can win."

"...."

Charlotte bit her lip in silence. If even the Gambinos refused to help her, she was at a loss. But her brother had sent her to them for a reason. There had to be meaning behind that decision. Regardless, a back-and-forth session occurred between them for a long while until Charlotte finally decided.

"I'll…" she hesitated, then drew in a breath. "I'll negotiate."

"Negotiate?" Vincenzo arched a brow.

"I… I'm the victim's family. My words carry weight. And I'm also a close friend of one of the victims."

Vincenzo's gaze narrowed slightly. "What exactly are you implying?"

"My brother was friends with the Imperial Prince," she said. "I'll tell him… about the Gambinos' involvement. Whether it's true or not."

Vincenzo tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Is that a threat?"

"You've left me with no choice."

"And what makes you so sure you'll walk out that door freely?" he asked coldly.

"The university will know," she said without flinching. "I left with Miss Anastasia. It won't be difficult for them to connect the dots."

A beat of silence passed. Then, Vincenzo let out a low chuckle, amused by her audacity.

"I think you've had your fun, Father," Anastasia interjected. "Stop teasing the poor girl."

Vincenzo leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk curling on his lips.

"Interesting… Hah," he exhaled. "You really are his little sister."

"What?" she blinked, caught slightly off guard by his sudden change in tone.

Vincenzo didn't answer directly. Instead, he gave a small nod.

"Lead her to the room, Anastasia."

"Yes, Father," Anastasia replied with a graceful nod. Then, turning to Charlotte, she gestured toward the door. "Come. Follow me, Miss Charlotte."

Without hesitation, Charlotte stepped forward and followed Anastasia down a quiet hallway. It didn't take long for them to reach a door at the end of the corridor.

Anastasia stopped, then turned to Charlotte with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about earlier," she said. "Father just didn't want to involve you too soon."

To put things into perspective, Charlotte had spent nearly two exhausting hours trying to convince the Gambinos.

"That's…"

"I know," Anastasia replied. "But you held your ground. That's more than most could do."

A bitter smile tugged at her lips.

"Strange though… it feels like something similar happened in the past," she said.

Perhaps this was karma. How funny would it be if the professor was still alive somewhere out there with the princess. As if subtly manipulating the narrative to ignite this war.

Just like she had once done in the past.

With that thought, she pushed the door open slightly and stepped aside.

Charlotte stepped inside. But the moment she crossed the threshold, her breath caught in her throat.

"...."

Seated elegantly on a lavish couch was a woman with red hair, her posture regal. She turned slowly, her golden eyes meeting Charlotte's.

"The professor's little sister, I see…"

It was none other than Aetherion's first princess, Irene Barielle Aetherion.

* * *

The Empire of Aetherion was in disarray. The death of its second princess had ignited waves of controversy, drawing not only national unrest but also attention from nobility and royal families beyond its borders.

Many of them had visited the Imperial Palace to pay their respects.

At present, Franz was burdened with the demands of the officials, while the Emperor himself tirelessly deployed investigative teams to pursue the truth behind the incident.

Was it truly the same terrorist group responsible for the catastrophe in the Zyphran Dominion?

These conversations were the topic across the empire, which had sparked speculation and unease even among common citizens.

Everywhere, people wondered what fate now awaited Aetherion.

But within the Esmeralda Duchy, a far different conversation was taking place.

Inside the grand palace of the Duke, Dante Esmeralda stood tall by the window, gazing out over his snowy estate.

Behind him, two figures knelt in deep prostration—heads bowed low to the marble floor.

"I deeply apologize for my failures… F-Father-in-law…" Simon Ainsley stammered, his forehead nearly touching the floor.

"...."

Dante Esmeralda didn't respond. He stood silently, eyes fixed on the snowy landscape outside the towering window, as if contemplating.

After a moment, he finally spoke. "Do you truly understand the severity of the situation?"

"Father!" Dianna rose abruptly. "It was an honest mista—"

"I've met the second princess before," Dante interjected, his tone cutting. "She was once considered a potential marriage prospect for your younger brother. Did you know that?"

"Ah…." Dianna faltered.

"And that Vanitas Astrea," he continued. "I met him once, too. Astounding child. But that's not what's important. It's his father."

"What do you mean, Father?" Dianna asked hesitantly.

"He's the reason our family didn't go bankrupt all those years ago. A dangerous man who operated in the shadows."

To put things into perspective, Dante Esmeralda had once worked alongside Vanir Astrea. Back then, Vanir was regarded as the Marionette among those in the loop. A figure who kept the balance in both new and old lower nobility.

"A man with skeletons in his closet," Dante said grimly.

In simpler terms, Vanir Astrea was akin to an assassin, and was once feared even by the highest-ranking noble houses.

"But at some point, he just… stopped," Dante continued. "He settled down with a woman. I asked him once, 'What are your plans now, Count Astrea?' Do you know what he told me?"

"...."

"I have two children now, Duke Esmeralda," Dante recited. "A son and a daughter. But I'm not related to the boy by blood. Still, I've decided to invest everything in him."

"...."

"At the time, I couldn't understand why he would choose a woman who already had a child. Why the one with no blood ties would be favored. Would he really make that boy his heir?"

"But what he told me next… I found myself unable to respond," Dante said quietly.

"Father…" Dianna murmured.

"That boy," Dante continued slowly, "killed his own blood-related father… and widowed his mother."

A heavy silence settled in the room.

"According to Vanir, the boy needed no guidance. He embodied the Astrea bloodline entirely on his own."

Dante finally turned away from the window, a glint flashing in his eyes.

"And when I met him… you'd never guess he was capable of such a thing beneath that child-like innocence."

To put things into perspective, according to Vanir, the boy had confessed to the murder out of a sense of obligation to protect his mother. The fact that a child, barely five years old, had cold-bloodedly kill his own father without hesitation was anything but normal.

"What I'm trying to tell you, is imagine what kind of monster that boy would grow into."

"Yes, but… he's already dead, Father—" Dianna began.

"Do you really believe that?" Dante snapped, turning to glare at her. "Look at the convenience of it all. We're the ones left in crisis, and if this situation isn't resolved, both our Houses could fall. Worse, we'll be charged with treason and executed."

"...."

Dianna's lips trembled slightly, but she had no words left to argue.

"It's possible," Dante replied with a shrug. "Or maybe I'm just an old man rambling. But the point stands. You've never met Vanir Astrea. So you have no idea what the Astreas are truly capable of."

The truth was, only a select few, those at the pinnacle of power, like the Duke Households, understood the true depth of the Astreas.

"So tell me, Marquess Ainsley," Dante continued. "Are you prepared to gamble your name? Because if this spirals further, it's possible the Gambinos will force you to withdraw from the elections altogether."

Simon's fists clenched at his sides.

"And if that happens, don't expect the Parliament to shield you. No one will wager their career on a sinking ship."

Simon's expression twisted in unease. "Is there truly no other way, Father-in-law?"

"It's possible they've already sent word to the Imperial Family," Dante replied. "Did that thought not cross your mind?"

"I-It did…" Simon muttered, lowering his gaze. "But we're still standing. No knights have come crashing through those doors. That must mean… they might be open to negotiation."

Dante scoffed, as if unimpressed. "Negotiation, yes. But with heavy incentives."

He took a step forward, the presence of an old man looming over them.

"They may very well demand your political standing. And if that happens, Simon… what will you do?"

Simon swallowed hard, unable to answer.

"Will you relinquish your seat in the Parliament? Withdraw your candidacy from the elections? Will you let go of everything you've built? Your influence, your power, just to salvage what's left of this disaster?"

Silence stretched between them.

"Think carefully, Simon," Dante continued. "Because if you hesitate for even a moment, they'll rip it all from you regardless. And neither I, nor anyone else, will be able to stop it."

"...."

"Now go," Dante said curtly. "Return to your estate. You have decisions to make, and very little time left to make them."

"Y-Yes, Father."

"Understood, Father-in-law."

With that, the two turned and exited the room.

Once alone in his study, Dante made his way to his desk, pulled open a drawer, and retrieved a sealed envelope.

"...."

His eyes lingered on the insignia.

"...."

It was a royal seal.

Dante clenched his fists.

He had hoped his daughter and son-in-law could handle the Gambinos. But for him… there was a much bigger fish.

"Irene Barielle Aetherion…"

She knew everything.

An hour later, a knock echoed through the chamber doors.

Dante didn't need to ask. Without a word, he rose from his seat, walked to the door, and pulled it open, brushing past the servant standing there.

"Duke Esmeralda, the Imperial Princess is—"

"I know," Dante cut him off flatly.

If negotiations were no longer on the table, then a man like Dante Esmeralda had only one path left.

Blood.

If treason was the only future awaiting him, then he would have no choice but to fully embrace it.

Tak. Tak—!

….Even if it meant pulling the trigger in front of the Imperial Family themselves.